The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  There were other letters in the same vein. Slowly it became clear that Gerald had been too busy, or too occupied with his newfound success, to go over to France to see the woman who loved him. No doubt by this time he had become bored with her selfless devotion. He was afraid she would grow tired of waiting — obtain a divorce and be free for the marriage he had promised but had no intention of fulfilling. He had successfully got her out of the way.

  Finally there was just one more letter at the bottom of the box. This time in a strange handwriting and penned in uncertain English. It was headed: Trouville, France, August 1948

  ‘My dear Gerald

  Following the cable sent yesterday.

  I cannot tell you how very sorry I was to be the bearer of such bad news. Your friend, Mrs Jenny Oldham, was taken to hospital following a crash made as she was returning from taking the children to school. Surgery was performed, but sadly she did not recover. I cabled and am writing to you as I have found no address for her husband or family among her effects. Can you please inform her relatives and make known for me the arrangements they would wish for her enterrement as soon as possible? Again, I am so sorry to write with such sad news. Madeleine and I would be happy to see you when you are next in France.

  Yours in great sympathie.

  Armand Labeque’

  With a feeling of overwhelming sadness, Cathy replaced the letters in the box and covered them with the rest of the papers from the packing case. Then she went downstairs. For a long time she sat in the kitchen, numb with shock at the discovery she had made. Gerald had been the one who had broken up her family all those years ago. He had seduced her mother and then, bored with her and irritated by her constant longing for her child, had packed her off to his friends in France. But why did he not send her back to her husband? Perhaps he had been afraid that the scandal might become public and tarnish his glamorous image — threaten his promising career as a concert pianist. He had taken Jenny away from the husband and child who loved and needed her, cynically allowed her to support him through his studies, then neglected her, leaving her to die among strangers.

  The sound of the telephone ringing in the study jerked her out of the daze she was in and sent her hurrying to the study to answer it. It was James Kendrick. His voice sounded so normal and ordinary that she felt as though she had just wakened from a bad dream.

  ‘Ah, Cathy. I thought I’d better give you a call. I now have some proof copies of Gerald’s rhapsody. They arrived from the publisher’s just after lunch. So if you’ve been tearing the place to pieces you can relax. Besides, I daresay he wouldn’t want to part with his own original copy.’

  ‘Oh.’ With an enormous effort Cathy pulled her scattered thoughts together. ‘Oh, yes the manuscript. I have been looking but I didn’t find another copy. Thank you for letting me know, James.’

  ‘Quite all right. No more news of Gerald?’

  ‘What? Oh, no. No more news.’

  ‘Well, it’s early days, isn’t it? And the worst is over. Let me know when you hear anything. Take care, Cathy. ’Bye.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  For a long time she sat on the edge of the chair in the study, trying to take in the full implications of the discovery she had just made — trying to make some sense of her life. But all she could think of was the baby she had sacrificed for Gerald’s sake.

  Cathy did not ring the hospital in New Zealand again. She could not bring herself to do it. But a week later a cheerful letter arrived from Gerald. He was recovering well, he told her. In fact he had not felt so well for a long time. The operation was nothing short of a miracle. His weakened muscles were already stronger and daily physiotherapy was helping enormously. The surgeon was delighted with his progress and would allow him out of hospital in another week’s time. He would need to stay in Auckland for a further two weeks, however, to convalesce and would need to see the surgeon again for a final check before flying home. The only piece of news that did not concern his health was that he had heard from James Kendrick that the final arrangements for the premiere of his rhapsody at next season’s Promenade Concerts had been made.

  ‘I shall look forward to next summer now with renewed enthusiasm. Who knows? Perhaps I too will be playing at next season’s proms. Already my mind is buzzing with plans and ideas.’

  Already Cathy sensed that they did not include her. Perhaps they never had.

  *

  Maggie dropped in to see her at least twice a week.

  ‘I don’t know how you stand it, alone in this great place,’ she remarked one bleak day in early-December. ‘I mean, the place is usually full of people. It must be strange.’ She peered into Cathy’s wan face with concern. ‘You know where I live if you want a bit of company, don’t you? You’ll have to take us as you find us, mind. Teenagers make such a muck of the place. Fast as you clean up, there they are with their clothes all over the place and their records blaring out, driving you up the pole.’ She grinned good-naturedly. ‘Still, the kettle’s always on.’

  Cathy smiled, touched by the older woman’s concern. ‘You must be busy, with your father there and two growing children to look after?’

  Maggie laughed. ‘Bless you, I’m used to that. One day they’ll be gone, so better make the most of it while I’ve still got them. Dad’s going on fine now. He’s very independent — already started whittling about going home. He’s quite a help to me: does a bit of shopping and washing up; pushes the Hoover round.’ She patted Cathy’s arm. ‘Mr Cavelle be home soon now, will he?’

  ‘In time for Christmas, I think,’ she said dully. ‘I haven’t heard anything definite yet. It’s summer over there now so he’ll feel the cold when he gets back.’

  ‘You’ll have to take good care of him. Get the place well warmed up.’ Maggie looked out of the window at the wintry day outside. ‘Could do with a bit of sunshine myself,’ she said. ‘And so could you by the look of you. You’ll have to get him to take you away somewhere for a nice holiday when he gets back. Before next season’s rush begins.’

  Before next season’s rush. The words had an empty ring to Cathy. Bleakly she wondered where she would be by then.

  *

  By the second week in December Cathy was ready for Christmas. She had decided to wait until Gerald was completely well again before confronting him with her discovery. Maybe he had some explanation. Perhaps he deeply regretted what had happened all those years ago. After all, he had kept Jenny’s letters. Cathy would give him the chance to put his side of the story.

  The following Friday was a bleak, wintry day, the wind churning the sea into boiling fury and the sky strewn with ragged clouds. Maggie was back. She had just begun preparing Gerald’s study for what she called a ‘good bottoming’ in preparation for his return. Cathy was on her way upstairs when she heard the crunch of car wheels on the gravel outside. Looking out of the landing window she was astonished to see Kay getting out of her car. She wore a full-length ranch mink coat, which she hugged closely round her as she made a dash for the front porch.

  Maggie, who had heard her arrival too, was just coming out of the study, her hair tied up in a scarf, when Cathy ran down the stairs.

  ‘It’s all right, Maggie. I’ll get it,’ she called on her way. As she pulled open the door her heart was beating unevenly. What on earth could bring Kay all the way from London? Had something happened to Gerald?

  The moment the door was open Kay almost fell in through it. ‘God, what a place!’ she gasped. ‘You can hardly breathe for the wind out there. I don’t know how you stand it.’

  ‘Hello, Kay,’ Cathy said dryly. ‘What a surprise. Can I do something for you?’

  Kay was taking off her coat and untying the scarf from her hair. ‘A cup of coffee would be nice,’ she said. ‘A gin and tonic would be even better.’ She threw the coat over a chair and looked Cathy in the eye. ‘But I haven’t come all this way to socialise. We have to talk, Cathy.’ She looked around her. ‘You are alone, I take it?’

>   ‘Apart from Maggie.’ Cathy’s stomach churned uneasily. ‘Is it serious — bad news?’

  Kay looked at her oddly. ‘Perhaps we could go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed? I’d rather we weren’t overheard.’

  Without a word Cathy led the way into the drawing room and closed the door. She could hear the sound of the vacuum cleaner coming from behind the closed study door, Maggie’s voice rising above it with a spirited rendering of If You Were the Only Girl In The World. She turned to Kay who had already made herself comfortable in a chair near the fire.

  ‘Would you like that drink first?’

  She shook her head. For the first time she looked edgy. ‘I think we’d better get this over,’ she said. ‘Sit down, Cathy.’

  In spite of the fact that she resented being told what to do in her own home, Cathy sat in the chair opposite and looked expectantly at the other woman. Kay opened her bag and took out a cigarette. As she lit it Cathy saw that her hands trembled slightly. She drew deeply on it and blew out a thin stream of smoke before she said: ‘The fact is, Gerald won’t be coming home.’

  Cathy’s heart missed a beat. ‘Something’s gone wrong? His treatment … ?’

  ‘No, no! Nothing like that,’ Kay said with an impatient shake of her head. ‘Look, there’s really only one way to say this, Cathy. He wants a divorce. He’s leaving you.’

  ‘I see.’ She found that she was icily calm. ‘And is there a reason? Am I to be allowed to hear it? I take it you know?’

  Kay drew hard on her cigarette and threw back her head defiantly. ‘Of course. He intends to marry me. We’ve been close for years, Cathy. I’m sure you know that. We should have married a long time ago. He needs me. I understand him as no one else ever could. When he married you he wasn’t in his right mind. His illness clouded his judgement.’

  ‘Really?’ Cathy felt detached — unreal. It was such a bizarre situation. ‘In what way?’

  Kay shrugged. ‘Maybe he saw it as clutching at life while there was still time. Now that he’s well again and thinking rationally he knows it was a terrible mistake — for you both.’

  ‘In other words, he’s regained his sanity and turned back to you?’

  Kay looked hard at Cathy. ‘I must say you’re taking it all very coolly.’

  ‘Perhaps there’s something you should know, Kay,’ she said. ‘Something I’ve only just discovered for myself. Gerald is a liar and a cheat. His only real consideration is himself and his career. Twenty years ago he broke up a marriage, split a family and caused a lot of suffering and heartbreak. How do you think I felt when I found out recently that the family was mine? That the woman he ran away with was my mother? The wife of Gerald’s best friend.’

  For a long moment the two looked at each other. Then Kay said: ‘I know.’

  Cathy stared at her. ‘You know?’

  ‘Yes.’ She ground out her cigarette. ‘He told me the whole story a few days ago. I’ve been in New Zealand myself, Cathy. I had to go over on business, so I was able to be with him. Gerald and I have talked a lot over the past weeks. Serious illness makes people do a lot of soul searching. It was good I was there for him. He married you for a variety of reasons. You reminded him of her — Jenny. Maybe it was partly out of some wish to put right the wrong he did; partly some vague notion of regaining his lost youth. Who knows? As I said before, he wasn’t himself. But all it did was give him an inflated sense of guilt and bring back memories he’d hoped were dead and buried. Now he wants to turn back the clock and return to his concert career.’

  ‘I see. Just like that? As though I didn’t exist.’ Cathy looked around her. ‘And what about all this? What about this house and the school, the people booked for next year’s seminars and concerts? The pupils he has lined up for his return?’

  Kay waved a dismissive hand. ‘You can cancel them, can’t you? As soon as he’s back in circulation Gerald will see to it that the house is put up for sale and that you’re all right financially, of course.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s Gerald’s way isn’t it? To cancel everything he’s bored with. Turn over a new page in the Cavelle saga and begin a new chapter. Never mind the trail of havoc he leaves behind.’

  ‘I tried to tell him it was wrong at the time, Cathy. He did you a grave disservice and he knows it now. He’s trying to make amends, so why not let him? Oh, come now — can you honestly say he made you happy?’

  ‘That’s not the point. A marriage is between two people and so is the breaking of it. Why couldn’t Gerald have talked to me about this himself?’

  ‘It’s better this way. He isn’t up to it yet. He knows he can rely on me to handle it tactfully.’

  ‘He’s lucky to have you. I’m beginning to see it now,’ Cathy said dryly. ‘What happens next then?’

  ‘First we’re going to have a holiday together. Right away from everything and everyone.’

  ‘From me, you mean. From Melfordleigh and me.’

  ‘Don’t be bitter.’ Kay reached out a tentative hand to touch Cathy’s arm. ‘Why not cut your losses and make a new start? You’re still so young. You have your whole life in front of you. As for your mother … it was all so long ago. And it takes two, you know. She ran out on you and your father. Jenny had to be at least fifty per cent to blame.’

  ‘Don’t you dare speak my mother’s name!’ Cathy was on her feet, her cheeks pink and her eyes blazing. ‘You know nothing about her or the suffering Gerald put her and my father through. She wanted to have me with her. She probably wanted to come back to us, but he wouldn’t let her. He was afraid of a scandal. He thought he might be named in a divorce case. He wasn’t risking that. So he sent her abroad and she died there. Convenient, wasn’t it? And poor Dad never even knew that Gerald — his so-called best friend — was the cause of it all.’

  ‘He did try to make amends, you know,’ Kay said quietly. ‘He even bought music from your father to pay for your school fees.’

  ‘He did what?’ Cathy’s colour faded.

  ‘Bought compositions of your father’s. Little jingles he knew would never be published. To finance your education at some private school. He did it to try to make up for what had happened. So don’t judge him too harshly, Cathy. None of us is perfect — not even you, I daresay.’

  She flushed warmly, stung to silence as she wondered if Simon had said anything to Kay about their brief affair. The other woman rose to her feet.

  ‘I think perhaps I’d better go now.’ She walked to the door, then turned. ‘I wouldn’t get any vindictive ideas about refusing to divorce him,’ she said. ‘He isn’t coming back anyway, so it wouldn’t make any difference, except to you.’ She paused. ‘I’m sure you’ll see that this is best for everyone — when you’ve had time to calm down.’

  Cathy stood perfectly still. Above the beat of her own heart she heard Kay’s footsteps cross the hall. With crystal clarity she heard the slam of the front door, the clunk of the car door, then the crunch of gravel as Kay drove away.

  Very slowly she sank on to the chair again and felt the tension slowly seep from her body. So — her marriage, her mockery of a marriage, was over. She was left to pick up the pieces. But there were some pieces that could never be reassembled; some shattered fragments of her life whose sharp edges would hurt her for ever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Rosalind returned to the Queen’s Head she missed Cathy and Cuckoo Lodge even more than she had expected to. She had loved Melfordleigh and the natural beauty of the Suffolk coastline. The house had impressed her too. She envied Cathy in so many ways. She had so much: a lovely home and a husband she adored. Belonging to someone who loved you in return must be very special, though an underlying unease about Cathy still haunted Rosalind. There was something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. Although the other girl had made her welcome and seemed genuinely glad of her company, the feeling that she was putting a brave face on some hidden unhappiness was always present. It was in the way she looked when she thought no on
e was observing her; in the wistful sadness lurking in the lovely green eyes. It tugged at Rosalind’s heart, making her long to ask what was troubling her and try to help. If only Cathy had trusted her enough to confide it would have encouraged her to unburden herself about the shameful secret she herself was trying to forget. Telling someone was something she found she needed more and more as the months passed.

  In spite of her nostalgia for the fresh sea air and Cathy’s company, she continued to enjoy her work at the hotel and her days at college. Each week she learned a new facet of the hotel business and she was grateful to Mrs Gresham for allowing her the opportunity of working in so many parts of the hotel. She had tried her hand in every department now, from the kitchen, restaurant and bar to the bedrooms; from catering to housekeeping; admin to personnel. She realised that studying at college alone could never have provided her with so much practical experience.

  She had seen little of Freda since the opening of Sweet Violet. The unsocial hours they both worked left few opportunities for meeting. The show had enjoyed rave reviews and there was even talk of taking it to Broadway some time in the coming year. How proud Ben would have been of the girl he had discovered and loved so much. Since the opening of the show Freda’s photograph had appeared on the cover of Applause, a popular show business magazine, and there had been interviews and profiles in several glossy women’s magazines too. Rosalind had cut them all out and lovingly pasted them into a scrap-book.

  Although there weren’t many opportunities for them to meet, Freda often telephoned and kept in touch and occasionally, on Rosalind’s day off, they would lunch together. Freda had recently taken a cosy little flat in Holland Park and loved to spend her free time cooking and pottering.

  Rosalind had read in the papers that Julian Travers and Brian French had completed a new musical, which would be going straight into the West End and was already in rehearsal. Freda told her that Stuart would not be doing the designs for this one. He no longer shared a flat with Julian. Both had moved to smarter flats closer to the West End and Stuart had been offered a permanent job with a television company.